A Leaf on the Wind
by AgentRusco
Summary: Young Wash stuff. Hopefully my muse will hold out for more chapters. Written in firstperson. Chapter four rewritten. Much more interesting.
1. Dinner

**A/N:**_ Can't help but think that Wash came from a big, happy family on that planet with the thick atmosphere…_

* * *

"Hoban Washburne you get in here this instant." Mama was shouting at me again. But it was a normal thing; at least she'd remembered my name. You'd think that the woman would name her kids easier names if she were to have so many. 

"Hi, Mama." I said as I sidled past her and into the kitchen.

"Where on earth have you been?" She couldn't keep the note of worry from her voice, but she tried to mask it with irritation.

"Jist out." I said.

The dining room was full of my kin. It was a wonder the room was big enough for all the people packed into it. All for a warmed meal of lumpy protein. Oh yay. I slid onto the end of the nearest bench, next to my fat cousin Gerion. He didn't move over any, and I had to perch with just one butt-cheek on the bench. I reached to the center of the table with vigor, regardless of the fare, I was always hungry. Mama always said that a growing boy needs food aplenty. I ate amid the chatter of my siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles and of course my pa. He was always the loudest. Making puns at every sentence and sending all who listened into uproarious laughter.

I shifted my weight, trying to get Gerion to scoot over just a tiny bit. But he didn't budge and, in fact, acted as if he had never even felt my elbow dig into his fleshy ribs. Ah well, I leaned out over the table again to snag some more to eat before it was devoured.

After the meal it was the younger boys' job to help clear the table so the girls could wash the dishes. That included me. I couldn't help it that I was only twelve, and as such the youngest boy in the immediate family. There were four of us under fourteen, which was the official cut-off age. My brother Fliver was nearly to the cut-off and would soon leave us to join the older boys. Gerion, and Slig were the cousins that were enlisted. Slig was the only one younger than me, and that only by a few months. It didn't matter though, because he was a lot taller. The family poured out of the dining room and into the large sitting room. We four boys cleared the tables and carried the dishes into the kitchen for the girls. Course, it so happened that I did all the work. It always did. Gerion had to sit down and catch is breath because of his overactive asthma. Fliver just thought himself too old to be messing around with us young-uns, and Slig, well, he was always an odd one. He tried to out-do everybody all the time, but never when it came to dishes. Here he turned a bit bullyish and ordered me around. Now, I never liked putting up with stuff like that, but he was, after all, bigger than me, and I liked to get along with everyone as often as possible.

"Jist put 'em right there, Bram." My cousin Cecilir said when I brought my armful of dishes into the wash-room. We weren't rich enough for a fancy mechanical dishwasher, so the younger girls washed all the plates by hand.

"I'm Hoban." I mumbled, not that it mattered, we were rarely ever called by our given names. People just picked a name from the appropriate family and called anyone that name. I ambled back into the dining room to find Gerion actually gathering up a few plates for a change. Fliver however, was just pacing up and down between the tables, muttering something.

"Talking to yerself, Fliv?" At least I knew everyone's names. I instantly regretted speaking, though. His eyes flashed up and he bared his teeth.

"Not on your life, punk!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "No way you'll get away from here by recitin'" I said. And then regretted that, too. You see, Fliver was an aspiring actor, or so he claimed for this week. He would read lines of plays and write them on his hands and recite them over and over in undertones. I was well aware of this. He, however, was not willing for his pride to be trod upon and he immediately began to yell at me. Second time to be yelled at within the hour. Go me. It wasn't the last though. Fliver's squalling brought a shout and then Pa into the room.

"What in the gorram hell is goin' on in here?" He asked. "Seems to me there's some dishes to be taken care of."

"He's a little punk, Pa." Fliver said.

"I know, but at least he lends a paw." The play on words was a bad one, but I grinned just the same.

"Now, Fliver, help Hoban carry that heapin' load o' plates. It's likely to crash and kill us all." Pa never forgot our names. Never once. He always had every single one of his twelve progeny named correctly and also the respective ten and seven of his brothers Vernis and Hopmur.

After the clean up, we younger kids joined everyone else in the sitting room, as no one was allowed out after dark. The smog crept in thick in the night and was quite poisonous until thinned by the sunlight. After a few hours of loud fun the two other families retreated to their respective wings of the house and Mama yelled at all of us to get washed and dressed for bed. More yelling, but it was per usual.

Nothing was particular about that day. I had come from the shipyard before dinner, as usual, but I never told Mama that. However, I slept that night with a different feeling than on previous nights. I was crammed as always between two of my older brothers, Fliver and Bram. Their deep breathing and the snoring of my other brothers on the bunk above us lulled me to sleep feeling very alone. Alone amid a wonderful and loving family.


	2. Leaving

**A/N:**_ K, so there are significant gaps, but I have not run dry with this start of a fic. I aim to fill in the gaps. So here's a bit that is several years later than the first bit._

* * *

"Don't you leave this world, boy." Pa looked me straight in the eyes. "Don't you leave yer kin."

I swallowed hard. What could I tell him? That the call of the stars was stronger than the love of my family? There was nothing I could tell him that he'd understand.

His blue eyes held an odd mixture of anger and sadness. I longed to run to him and bury my face in his shoulder as I had when I was a child. But I didn't.

"I gotta go, Pa." I couldn't find words. "This is me. The only thing I can do."

His eyes lost the glint of anger. Only the sadness remained. "It'll be the death of you, son."

I walked away then. I couldn't back out now. The tears could not come.

I walked away and didn't turn. Never said goodbye to anyone. I hate byes more than staying land bound. I never came back.


	3. Museums

**A/N:** _Ok, here is a bit more on Wash's childhood. I seem to have lost the original narrative style. It irks me, but this is as good as it gets for now. I'll keep working at filling in the gaps and bringing it all together. This bit needs a lot of work, it is by no means the final form. Tell me what you think._

Pa took only me to the first museum. It was amazing to be alone only him and me. I'm not sure why he took only me, but I was grateful. After all, he took only Fliver to the Grand Theatre the week before and Taggral to the cortex mainframe of our area. He seemed to like to spend time with one child at a time. And I knew was that we all enjoyed it.

The museum Pa took me to displayed molds of ancient fossils from animals that had roamed Earth-that-was a huge long time ago. There were beasts that had once stood taller than a Way Cruiser and half as long.

"I bet they're not real." I said to Pa.

"Don't say that!" He looked aghast. "You can't discount the past."

"It can't be proved." I stated.

"You can't be proved." He grinned and shook his head. "These creatures are real, Hoban."

"Were."

He knelt to my level. "No, if you believe in them hard enough, they're real now. If you believe in anything, it can be made so." I didn't know it at the time, but that was probably the most important thing my father ever said to me.

We spent nearly the entire day at the museum. I became more and more interested in the huge ancient creatures the deeper we explored the halls. I learned about the Tyrannosaurus Rex being the king of the beasts in the ancient Greek. I learned what all the ridiculous plates on a Stegosaur's back were for. The museum was huge. Its white marble walls provided a somewhat unnatural yet fitting background to the suspended bone molds. Pterodactyls swooped overhead in holographic simulations. All sorts of strange noises were siphoned through microphones placed near each exhibit.

I was very reluctant when it came time to leave. But as we walked the final stretch Pa drew me aside to the shop. There he bought me brightly colored toy replicas of my favorite dinosaurs.

It was my uncle who took me and my brothers and male cousins to the second museum. As much as I loved the dinosaurs, this museum was to be my life. It was a flight museum. The history of flight on Earth-that-was was laid out and even demonstrated for us. I watched in fascination as two young men with really weird names made the first flight in a goofy thing with big long wings. Further on I observed the first object projected into space. From then onward were space exploits. Explorations, battles, and terraforming were all described in appropriate detail.

I walked in fascination down the aisles and aisles of ship models. Most of them were scaled down to fit in the building, but some were actual size. I had never before been so close to ships that had actually been to the Black.

Before me sat the most ungainly ship I'd ever seen. It was a full-scale ship, an old outdated model. A freighter in fact. I read the plaque and it said that the engines of the Firefly class transport were a unique design. I glanced the ship over. Its hull was scarred deeply by something, and it was quite obviously not operational. The bridge hung out way above my head and the huge cargo bay doors yawned in front of me. A sign on a rope in front of the ship read: DO NOT ENTER. I didn't, but I was surely tempted too. It was the ugliest ship I'd ever seen, and I'd only seen a few. It was beautiful, though, just the same.

After viewing the exhibits, I spend the rest of the day poring over the star charts, learning the names of each star, its planet the moons and the major cities. My brothers and cousins were bored stiff. They had been interested in the ships, but the stars did nothing for them that they did for me.

"Can we go now?" Fliver asked impatiently.

Uncle Vernis shrugged. "Looks like, uh, Bram—"

"I'm Bram." Said Bram.

"Right, uh," Uncle Vernis was never good at coherent sentences. "Well, we can leave if you like."

They wandered off. I didn't. I got in a great deal of trouble that night for staying away so long. But I Uncle Vernis got yelled at more for leaving me all by myself.


	4. School

School was great. I'd always been schooled at home by my Mam and my Aunties. It was great to live and learn among so many people my own age who were interested in the same thing. Namely flying.

The first year of classes was comprised mostly of general subjects, that is, not specific to flying. During the first year I learned a great deal of history as well as math and physics. I didn't mind the other classes that most of my classmates found useless. But I did, of course, prefer the classes that seemed more applicable. Such as flight simulation.

My family, being a large and therefore, rather poor one, was not current on much technology. In school I learned about all the automations that rich people lived with. My first encounter with a flight simulator was a magnificent one.

I entered the classroom and was surprised to note that there were not the normal desks, but comfy-looking chairs. In front of the each chair were flight controls and a simulator helmet.

"I'm Henry MacFlu." The instructor introduced himself to us. "You call me Mac. Have a seat ladies and gents." Mac was a small man, very wiry and athletic-looking. His bristly black hair stood out from his forehead like porcupine spikes.

I stood looking at the chair. Oh yes, this was gonna be the best class. A nice comfy chair. I reclined.

"Put on the visors boyos." He never pulled the formality gig that the other instructors insisted on.

I put on the visor.

Instantly I was seeing stars. But not as if I'd been hit on the head. I was seeing space. And I was in the cockpit, at the controls. I grinned.

"Ready boys and girls?" Mac's voice was in my ear. "Have a taste of flyin'." I could hear the almost malicious humor in his voice.

Suddenly the view of serene stars flickered to an asteroid field. I heard faint gasps through the helmet and gripped my own controls hard. We'd barely been through their function in a different class and the memorization I'd made myself do came rushing back.

A huge pitted rock was headed for my view screen. I tipped the controls to the left and felt my entire chair shift as the helmet showed the swerve. I was instantly very sick to my stomach. Yes, that's right. I'd made myself ill.

I kept at it though. Silently urging my stomach to ignore the maneuvers as I gritted my teeth. I concentrated only on the controls in my hands and the space debris before me. Swerve right, pitch down, yaw left. All the time blazing forward through the spinning obstructions. I felt the impact as a chunk of rock ricocheted off my 'ship'. Then a boulder the size of a moon loomed in the screen. I pulled up, and even felt a semblance of g-force then collided into the bulk. The view screen erupted into flames then went blank.

I pulled the visor off and gasped for breath. Mac was standing in front of me and my classmates were looking at me in awe. I glanced about, confused.

"What's yer name, boyo?"

"Uh, Hoban, sir. Hoban Washburne."

"Well, Hoban, you have a-mazing reflexes." He motioned to the other students. "These are like all the others. They last only a few seconds, a minute at most on their first sim. You realize you lasted five and a half?"

"Uh, I died though."

"Ha!" He nodded. "Hoban, no, not Hoban that's a trash name."

I eyed him disdainfully. It was my name. My very own. My Mum and Pa had given it to me.

"Too many syllables." His eyes began to twinkle. "Can't rightly call ya 'Ho', now can I?" Some students laughed. I did not.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't." I agreed.

"'Hobe' don't work neither." He leaned back. "Ah well, I'll think of one. I surely will. And for all ya's you haven't got a simple name. Now get outta here, good session, all." He flailed his arms to move us along. No one complained that the class hadn't even run ten minutes. I stood up, still a bit shaky.

"Uh, thanks Mr. MacFlu."

"Mac. I tell ya I like to keep things simple. In situations, you don't wanna have to think of a longish name."

I nodded.

"Oh, and kid," I turned back to face him "Yer real good, but don't get cocky. Don't expect special treatment."

I assured him that the thought had never crossed my mind. Not ever. But I was elated just the same. First day at the sims and I'd shown up the entire class and, apparently, everyone else who'd ever had a go. My grin simply wouldn't leave.


End file.
